My knee is still a work in progress, or maybe regress. I decided to go to the doctor, but was in no mood to put on make-up. The visit did, however, require I put on clothes. I randomly pinned my unruly hair into not exactly a chignon, more like a dozen little chignons all over the back of my head. I had already put on a stained long sleeved white t-shirt and straight-leg cords in hopes of working in my studio, but the cords had to go since I can't roll them above my knee for the doctor.

I grabbed a dress/skirt/ wrap thing I bought on the spur of the moment from a television pitch. The first time I wore it required a visit to the internet and zeroing in on the simplest way to twist and knot the stretchy mass of black into a dress. I am easily disoriented, so following such directions is stressful, similar to an experience I had 25 years ago with a  baby carrier for which I had to lay out the directions, line myself up facing the same way as the paper, and painstakingly adjusting belts and buckles. With regard to the dress/skirt/wrap (skrap?), after the first wearing I can't be bothered, and just wear the big tube of fabric as a skirt. It's kind of like getting a printer/scanner/copier versus just a printer. It does many jobs, but none of them well.

As I headed out the door, (or I should say 'clamored' because limping sounds too elegant), and recalled a friend telling me how she plans her wardrobes around my jewelry. She claims that regardless of what she is wearing, one of my necklaces makes it an outfit. It was a stretch, but I had a stain on my shirt I needed to cover, so I put on the necklace in the photo which I have come to call "the magic necklace."

I am not very adept at walking in the best of circumstances.  I bump into someone almost daily, but only just recently realized it most likely has something to do with the ambiguous nature of my stride which is on the order of Jacques Tati's halting lope in the movie Mon Oncle. Put me on crutches and I take on the random movement found in insects and studied by robotic experts.

I hobbled through the sliding glass doors that open into the lobby of the doctor's office, checking to make sure I hadn't tucked the handkerchief hem of my 'skrap' into my panties. A lady seated next to the elevator looked up at me as I pushed the button and said "I love your outfit!" There is only one explanation, well, maybe two: 1. The asymmetrical handkerchief hem of the skrap 2.The spell cast by my magic necklace. 

Today I am off to the dentist for my 2nd crown in as many weeks. I am currently wearing garish mustard yellow corduroys and a black tank top (am I trying to look tacky?). I retain the flower child make-upless face of my youth sans the youth, and I've got the same quirky hairstyle going on.  I don't know what I'll do to make myself presentable to the public, only that it will involve a magic necklace. To be continued...

I love Peter, the disciple. From what I can tell he is impetuous, adamant, and often mistaken. Try as he might, he often seems to just not 'get it.'  I am no Bible scholar, and I confess that I fall so in love with my ideas, I lean toward not caring if my interpretations are right or not. And my fickle heart resonates with Peter. He burst out with pronouncements and whispers denials and is wrong much of the time.

People fault him for the whole walking on water incident, but I didn't see any other disciples getting their toes wet. He has faith, ardent faith, that wavers and is sometimes misplaced.  Jesus called him 'the Rock' and in the same story 'Satan.'  Seems to me that Peter was all over the board yet spends very little time in-between.

So, they are all crying out in fear, these disciples, when they saw Jesus on the water. Peter demands proof: "If it is you, command me to come to You on the water." And Jesus says "come" and Peter does, but starts seeing all of nature stacked up against his defiance of same. At least when he sinks he knows who to call: "Lord, save me!"

Fast forward to post-resurrection, post-Jesus denying Peter, to the risen Christ appearing to the disciples at the sea of Galilee. It is John who recognizes the man standing on the beach, the one suggesting all the good fishing is on 'the other side of the boat'. John says to Peter, "It is the Lord."  Why did he tell Peter? Was he whispering a fact he is just coming to realize? With Peter there is no hesitation, and here comes my favorite part: Peter puts on his coat and throws himself into the sea. (Oh, Peter, my soul-mate. I am ever throwing myself in and out of the fire, in and out of the sea.)  But why the coat? I have heard sermons making fun of Peter for this, but I think it was his act of faith, his hope that maybe this time he could walk the short distance to the shore while the others rowed. I think he was hoping to greet Jesus, heart full of faith, arms open for embrace, with water on soles of his feet.  

Enough said, right? The tiny mason jar has an emergency stash of my holographic hexagonal glitter chunks.

My bride-to-be daughter was wanting something kicky for her bridesmaids to wear and we came up with these octagonal crystal earrings.  The bead chain slides through the middle, so they are sort of 'kinetic', going cutely wonky the more you dance the night away. I love designing for special occasions. It nudges my creativity in new directions, like the architectural look of these earrings. Danielle insisted they be short, not chandelier, giving them a throw-back to the '40s vibe.

I had knee surgery shortly before the holidays, expecting to be up and about in a couple of days. Now in my fifth week of 'no weight bearing' I have new sympathy for anyone confined to a wheelchair. Thankfully I only have one week left after which I should pick up a paintbrush to repair all of my banged up walls.  I have broken glasses, a rice cooker, spilled innumerable food items, knocked over a lamp and water glass onto a power strip, and almost fallen a hundred times. I am clumsy at best. Put me on crutches and I am a deadly weapon.

All of this has made me quite cranky, but my friends and family are bearing with me. I think they will be as happy as I when I can put one foot in front of the other again. I am reminded of a character in Pilgrim's Progress that I fell in love with as I plowed through Bunyan's work many years ago in seminary. Ready-to-Halt my kindred spirit, joins the journey on crutches. After a great victory against The Giant Despair, he and Feeble-mind celebrate with Christiana:

"Now Christiana, if need was, could play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the lute: so, since they were so merry disposed, she played them a lesson, and Ready-to-halt would dance. So he took Despondency's daughter, Much-afraid, by the hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he could not dance without one crutch in his hand, but I promise you he footed it well: also the girl was to be commended, for she answered the music handsomely."

Here's to a New Year of dancing, dancing, dancing even if it's on one crutch.

I was playing with some new materials and have fallen obsessively in love. Above is a 30 inch necklace made of pyrite and vermeil chain.  The large gems are worn to one side for a cool asymmetric yet balanced look. I don't understand why it works but it does. It works so my twenty something daughters each snagged one the minute they laid eyes on them. I am really excited with this new direction in my designs and am hoping to get them up on my site for sale soon ($65). I am reopening my Etsy store too in order to facilitate shopping for everyone.

The necklace features a rough cut pyrite chunk juxtaposed (there I go again) next to a Keshi pearl. While most Keshi pearls today are intentionally formed, originally they happened by accident or mishap when a pearl formed without a nucleus. I love the concept of beauty emerging, as it so often does, when things go wrong.

The third element in the necklace is a 'Herkimer diamond'  or double terminated quartz crystal. I love how it is drilled right through the middle causing it to hang in unlikely horizontal surprise.

James chides me that I should not include that both pyrite and the crystal are thought to have beneficial metaphysical properties, and while debunked by science copper is thought to have healing properties as well.  I joked with him that I felt so much better after photographing the necklace he might want to consider holding it for a while.  Regardless of whether minerals can radiate good karma, I believe beauty does the job all by itself.

Mmmmm. Pyrite. You gotta love it!

When I was a teenager, I used to walk out into the woods on my grandparents lake property in northern Wisconsin.  Slipping between trees and onto ancient pine needle trails, I imagined myself with nimble moccasined feet, so at one with the earth they keep the silence in tact. Nostrils stinging with fragrant tannic whiffs released by every softly crunching step, I circled up a hill and then descended into a hollow of trees, tall thin birches peppered with oaks.  I sat down, leaned against a sturdy trunk, and faced the lake where the water gently lapped the shore, slowed by rounded stones and cattails. “Take off your shoes,” whispered my mind, “the ground you are on is holy.”  There was no burning bush, no audible voice, just a momentary thought so subtle I considered ignoring it.  Was I trying to force a religious experience on myself? Feeling a little silly and dramatic, I slipped off my shoes and placed them on the ground beside me.  In that instant, sunlight hit the rippled water and sent sparkling reflections through the trees, and I was enveloped in flickering patches of light falling like stars, or snowflakes, or angels all around me. I was astonished and have filed this image along with half-a-dozen others, when this world and the next fold in upon each other and I am in two places at once. 

Here's a peek at my bottle palette on my back porch just before I made a wreath for my brother, award winning chef Jesse Wong. He airmails elaborate dinners to my parents in Sarasota and ships me plastic bottles from catering events. The big 'thank-you' was called for and it ended up being gigantic, a wreath about 30 inches wide. A couple of days before he received the wreath from me, a huge box of empty bottles arrived on my doorstep from him. I guess we communicated telepathically, both of us with recycled plastic on the brain. (I am beginning to think 'plastic on the brain' should be a treatable condition: POTB?) Jesse and his wife Nicole love the wreath I made in colors that match floral arrangements they ordered a while back. I wish the pictures communicated the wreath's gorgeousitude better. (One of the symptoms of POTB is verbal inventive syndrome or VIS.)

Next, I made two wreaths for my front door. I love them, but James complains that everytime he opens the door is snows glitter.  I told him it is an added feature, sort of like those grocery store brooms that smell like cinnamon. That is a bad example though, because I hate those brooms. Their scent is so overwhelming I feel gorged like those poor little geese in France.

Last Thursday, I went in for arthroscopic surgery with the expectation of being up and walking in a few days. Unfortunately, there were a few surprises lurking in and around my knee cap so I am on strict orders not to put weight on my left knee for 6 weeks. I have crutches, but they sent a wheelchair once I explained my propensity to walk into walls and trip over air. After a few near misses accompanied by yelps, I told John not to worry if I scream unless he hears a subsequent crash.

Yesterday, I tried putting lights on our tree, lurching through pine needles and groping to find a plug, while at the same time clinging to the sliding glass door. After haphazardly flinging the last length of pink LED lights, I broke into an exhausted sweat, plopped down in my wheelchair, and rolled away not noticing half the lights exiting with me, the cord having snagged on the brake of the wheelchair.  I hopped to the garage refrigerator to grab a couple of sodas, then  careened back into the wheelchair. That is about all I got accomplished yesterday: lit half of our tree and shook up some soda cans, but at least I managed not to injure myself or anyone nearby.

Zuzu is completely baffled by the wheelchair as is Charlotte. Charlotte is an Australian Shepherd, ever on hand in case there is a job that needs to be done. She doesn't know what that job is or how to do it, but she is ready. Thus far she has been 100 % successful at keeping the wolves away. Zuzu, on the other hand, is a big baby and tries to climb in my lap, sending me wheeling backwards until I hit a wall. Chloe, the terrier,  is non-plused about the whole business.  I suspect she would like to perch a the pillow in the wheelchair and have me wheel her around.

Once I am a bit more on the mend I want to work at my jeweler's bench. My latest designs are moving in a fun direction and I am excited to play with some new ideas. I am juxtaposing (as I am wont to do)  blingy swarovski crystal chain next to gun-metal links and pyrite. Danielle and I are going to design her bridesmaids earrings using faceted hexagonal crystals I ordered from China.

All of our children will be here for Christmas, Danielle from Baltimore and Heather coming in from Massachusetts. I am really looking forward to the chorus of laughter that only happens when everyone is home. It's like a good wine, with notes and layers to it that create a delicious whole. And with regard to the glitter shake down with all the comings and goings at the front door, I say: "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

I've been working in my studio to come up with a line of jewelry in the $35-$75 range.  I'm really happy with the bracelet in this photo. It's sterling with onyx and sterling chain. I love the chunk of pyrite on the end of the chain. I always add a charm at the end of bracelets so you can clasp it wherever you want for a comfy fit, then the rest just dangles gorgeously.

It's been a challenge juggling my projects and making the transition to jewelry. My open house is this weekend so that is a good motivator. I get on a roll but then I wander... I made more home-made laundry soap and was musing about how I love to make my own bread, yogurt, and granola. I like to garden. I thought to myself "I would have made a great pioneer, but I would need someone to clean the house." But I'm guessing that those pioneers lived with dirt, kind of like I do. It reminded me of taking my gaggle of children to a farm for Danielle to purchase a lovebird. Along with walls of outdoor aviaries, the owner had chickens, ducks, and miniature goats. I actually said "Oh,kids, how fun. It's just like a farm. Don't touch anything!" It is this ambiguity in which I live, the push and pull of being a hopeless romantic in a world of germs. Maybe I could be like Marie Antoinette with her miniature farmhouse, cute peasant outfits, and perfumed sheep, but that didn't work out so well for her in the end.

I've been filling internet orders and received one for a "very orange" bottle stopper. Heather's favorite color is orange so I immediately decided the complete stranger who placed the order is my new best friend. I have the stopper assembly down to a science and they are looking very festive and hip, as am I, as I slog around my house with no make-up, chipped toenails, and un-brushed teeth. If I were a pioneer I would go outside and chew on a stick.

I have a great new hairstylist and when I make an effort I am going for the Midnight in Paris look. I've even experimented with finger waves in my hair but I run my fingers through my hair too much so I end up looking a bit more like Einstein if I'm not careful. I wonder if dear Albert started out with finger waves in the morning but he scratched his head all day while figuring out the universe.

                                                         The Oh-so-Orange stopper. Not a bad gift for under $25!